


History Comes Haunting Back

by ValentinesValentine (UnfinishedProject)



Series: Tequila Times [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Black Widow perk, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, DLC inclusive, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship Flings, Slow Burn, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfinishedProject/pseuds/ValentinesValentine
Summary: The tribals were all but a faded memory, a piece of history when she crossed paths with someone she held close once. And now he shot her.Six was presented a fresh start in Goodsprings when her past caught up with her. And she was ready to make the most out of it.A Raul/F!Courier story but it will take a while. Updates planned for every Monday, 1600 GMT. Unbeta'd.Moving to bi-weekly updates as of 13/05/2020.On hiatus as of 29/09/2020.
Relationships: Female Courier/Raul Tejada
Series: Tequila Times [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701238
Kudos: 6





	1. The Courier, the Doc and the Robot

**Author's Note:**

> There's a [soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHflBjSeH0v5Feq4G4RF8FbtlKs6usBQp) for the story; chronological but each song will be included in chapter notes.
> 
> I'm putting this story on hiatus. For the reasons behind the decision, please read my [tumblr post](https://fnfctntrsh.tumblr.com/post/630608653524910080/moving-on-to-fallout-new-vegas-stuff-history). Thanks for understanding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocky Mountain High by John Denver

Her head hurt. Not much, not anymore. The last couple days passed by in a blur, the only thing that remained constant was the pain in her waking hours. It was light now, late morning hours by her estimates. She was staring up at a wooden ceiling, white spots dancing in the corners of her eyes if she moved too sudden. Must've been injured pretty bad, then. 

A face swimming into her view broke the thought, not as if it was much of a thought to begin with. It was a kind face; old, somewhere in their sixties, wrinkled. She took the offered hand, pushing herself up into a sitting position; steadying herself with a grip on the edge of the bed. Her gaze wandered around, medical equipments and dividers she's seen at clinics decorating the room; then the man across from her had to be the doctor. 

"Whoa, easy there. How about your name?" She still swayed a little, hoping to shake the numbness of being bedridden with a deep exhale before giving some thought to his question. She had a name once, one her parents gave her but she forgot it, haven't used it in a while. Could also swear that at different parts of the wastes, she had different names; some chosen by her, some just sticking with her — but none that she would recall or prefer to use. She was given a fresh start, she should take it by the hand and never look back. 

"Six. Courier. It doesn't matter." There was no name she could come up with, the easiest was to just become one of many; as far she knew, she was still one of the Mojave Express couriers. He was surprised by her choice but didn't argue it further, instead offering his own introduction; confirming her assumption of being the town's doctor. Goodsprings; she was taking a detour here on her way to the Strip, quicker to avoid the deathclaws here than through Nipton and the east road. She asked what happened; she was shot, not so bad after all and then dragged across town by Victor — the rest she could piece together. 

Her hands were taken again, pulling her onto her feet now; dizzy and vision blurring for fleeting seconds. It wasn't that bad, maybe a glass of water could help. She walked slowly, insecure; the sway of her hips that made men turn after her absent and arms struck out — posing with all the grace of a toddler. She leant onto the vigor tester with a sigh, getting back into the saddle might take longer than she wanted. She was still alive, though. 

"Have a seat. I have a few more tests I'd like to run." There was another relieved sigh from her, sinking into the cushions of the couch; her gaze cast down to her naked legs stretching in front of her. She gave her answers as honestly she could, uncertain if it was true; parts of her memories were muddled. A chuckle slipped from her when the doc cracked a joke about the tests, getting shot in the head wasn't part of family history. 

Her moves were still shaky as she pulled back on the vault suit, adjusting the leather armour with small, precise touches. She ran a hand along with one of the straps with a far-away smile, the only thing she brought with herself from her past. Fingers raked through her hair, pulling it back into a bun; then dropping them and allowing it to haphazardly frame her face — the scar running from her temple some while back wasn't the most charming sight, she reckoned. 

She turned, gasping at the sudden pain that came with the movement; eyes flitting to the item in Doc Mitchell's hand. He explained how he got hold of one though she was more or less knew familiar with Pip-boys; though never once seen this model. Her eyes were glued to the scrap of paper that was her delivery order while the Pip-boy was attached to her arm; she'll need to get used to the added weight. 

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc." There was a dismissive answer, modest for what he's done for her without expecting anything in return; there were few men like him nowadays. Still, she thanked him again and the advice to ask around the saloon; that's where she was heading back to from a smoke when the world went dark. Probably she shouldn't have been gone as far she was. 

The light outside was bright, worse than what she woke to; squinting even when she was in the shade of the saloon's porch. She decided it was easier to start there, get something to eat and drink and then head off into the wastes; if nothing else she should stop by the nearest Mojave Express that was in Primm. An eager, barking dog greeted her and a woman her own age; she remembered running into her the afternoon she arrived. She threw an order to the dog before introducing herself; Sunny Smiles — yeah, the name fit her, Six thought. 

It didn't take Sunny long to convince her to help, a couple geckos sounded like a good way to measure how off her aim became. It was a quick job, couldn't have been more than an hour before they were squeezed into a box in the saloon, drinks in hand. They engaged in idle chatter about the town and what was there to do, taking turns to scratch Cheyenne behind her ears when their attention was caught by a conversation getting unpleasant. She feigned nonchalance, giving a blank stare in return to the frowning man on his way out; not the sort of man she'd be happy to tangle with. 

Even though her instincts told her to get up and go on her way before things went south, Six only sidled up to the counter. She's exchanged a few words with Trudy as per Sunny's request already but they only glossed over her assailants. They talked more now, about the recent threats of the escaped convicts and the caravaneer stuck in the old petrol station; all the while Six was knuckles deep in the disassembled radio. She wasn't a master at electronic fix-ups, most of the time the only tinkering she's done was weapon maintenance but after a quick glance into the decades old issue of a _Fixin' Things_ , she managed. Probably not the best work and it could only be tuned to Radio New Vegas but it worked. 

"Well, that was easy." She hasn't even sat back down at their table when Sunny perked up with her offer. If someone volunteered, she wouldn't be the one to refuse the help. She pondered Sunny's suggestion for more help, not wanting to drag the town into even more trouble after what she, and apparently, the caravaneer called Ringo caused. But, in her reasoning, she might've been right; handing over Ringo wouldn't solve the problem in the long run. 

With a last scratch behind Cheyenne's ears, Six headed out of the saloon; her first trip taking her up the hill to the old petrol station. It seemed empty when she stepped through the door, narrowly avoiding a tripwire before the barrel of a gun was pointed at her from between old shelves. She held out her hands, trying to keep her breathing even until she no longer faced the gun; leaning onto the ages old counter as they exchanged pleasantries. Six listened to the story from him, too; though there weren't many details she hasn't heard before. 

"There's no way I can handle all of them in a gunfight." Six laid a hand onto his shoulder, reassuring him that some of the townsfolk were ready to help and that it was reasonable to be cautious about their chances. Though she was ready to get all cosy with anyone, she wasn't particularly fond of the same being done to her. She tensed a little when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, giving it a soft squeeze but she returned his smile with the promise of being back later after she secured supplies. 

She was back at the Doc's house only hours after leaving and making the promise in good natured jest that she would try not to get killed. Six assured him that nothing was amiss and she felt great given the circumstances and her visit was more of a preventive kind. He wasn't exactly happy to part with the chems, which she could understand, she was rather clingy when it came to sharing from her own stash during her past assignments and deliveries. She indulged in a few more minutes of idle chat and another chance to thank his work before she headed off with a smile and wave. 

She caught sight of Victor rolling by at the edge of the town, reminding herself to talk with him before turning in for the night. Her thoughts turned back to the matter at hand as the faraway clanking faded into the desert rocks; hesitating for a moment on the porch of the store, unable to recall the owner's name. _Did Sunny say Cheve? No, that's Mexican for beer. It's..._ She huffed in frustration, it seemed memory problems would now be a part of her life. There was a soft, victorious exclaim shortly after, though, recalling the name right; _Chet, that's it_. 

The general store seemed empty upon entering, a weak hello ringing out in her voice. There was some scraping then a head popped up behind the counter. She turned down most of his offers, only buying a few more rounds for her shotgun before guiding the conversation to her true reason of visit. Not surprised once again that it took her some persuasion; a couple touches here and there, soft smiles and a twinkle in her eye that maybe promised more than she planned to offer. Though the threat of the convicts' victory and subsequent looting of the town might've done just as much to secure his aid. 

"And, uh, I'll be guarding the store while all this is going on." Her lips curled into a soft smirk, letting the ambiguous, hummed 'sure' hang in the air; she knew as much that it would be a bad idea to hint more openly at cowardice — not wanting to risk the leather armour and ammo Chet just promised. They agreed that Sunny would pop in later to check with him how many they needed then headed out into the afternoon heat. 

She stopped by the Prospector, informing Sunny of her deals and convincing Trudy to help out; in turn receiving news that other townsfolk decided to help. Six went on to the edge of the town, rasping her knuckles against a wooden door; uneasiness pooling in the pit of her stomach ever since she came Victor's way. Maybe it was the fact that he was working for Mr. House and she was under surveillance, maybe it was something else; some reason she couldn't remember since her near death experience. 

There was no answer, only the old flag and the string of lights swayed in the soft breeze. She was about to turn back and head up the hill to the petrol station, spend the evening with Ringo going over some kind of plan, when she heard the clanking and whirring of tire behind her back. 

"Fancy meeting you here, friend." Six frowned at the way the robot called her friend, they were hardly acquaintances but let it fly; it was a fair assumption from someone with limited logic after saving her life. She started by a round of gratitude once she was inside the shack and seated on the moth-eaten couch. Her eyes wandered around the space, simple as anything in the wasteland except for a couple towns she crossed on her travels. Most things seemed to be left behind by a previous owner, she mused, as robots hardly had the need for a bed or coffee. 

"How did you happen to find me?" The whole story started to slowly form from her fractured memories and the little nuggets of information she received. The entirety of the robot's involvement was still a mystery though and she very much wanted to get to the bottom of it; the uneasiness tugging at her again at the thought of being indebted to a robot — or Mr. House, God forbid. 

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard." She didn't say a word but her lips curled in disbelief, she didn't remember seeing him when she went out for the smoke; then again, she didn't remember much of that night anyway. She asked about her attackers, somewhere in the back of her mind feeling a little obsessive about the whole thing, only to get a negative reply. 

"You saying I owe you?" He sure sounded that way when she expressed no wish for Victor to keep her company. There was a distinct emphasis on the words not exactly in his reply, insinuating that it wasn't Victor she owed. She put on a mellow smile, dropping the topic with a fake giggle that had better effects on men than robots; and promised to meet him once she made it to New Vegas. 

It was getting dark by the time she returned to the petrol station, having made a detour to the saloon for some dinner. The meal was gone quick and now a yellowed, torn paper laid between them, the town sketched onto it with pink crayon. Not the most accurate map but it was enough, their fingers poking at locations in succession, going through the plan for the morning. Dawn more like, Six groaned inwardly, knowing that she would get little sleep that night; and what would keep her up wasn't to be the pleasant kind. 

"Hey, since there's nothing to do, want to play a round of Caravan?" They could always go to sleep, Six thought, or sleep, but probably it was better to leave all the swinging and brain-rattling to a later time; a headache was the last thing she wanted. She refused still, having only a few cards with herself; a pair of Jokers, the two and three of Hearts, the six of Spades and the King of Diamonds. Not exactly a pack to play with. She also declined the spare deck Ringo offered; she was too twitchy to be able to concentrate on the game. 

"Are you taking the I-15 south?" Her voice broke the silence that hugged them since the offer of the game. Before, she was content on her own when travelling; less trouble, less attention. But, with the possibility of headaches and complications she couldn't even think off, it might've been better to travel in company; not to mention the added security if the convicts posed such a threat. 

"Yeah. Head down to the Outpost and catch a caravan back to Vegas." That sounded like a solid plan but she wasn't sure she had the time for that; she still debated coming back north from Primm and taking the route she planned days ago. They left it at the end, promising to speak about it again after the fight was over. Night came soon after but Six was awake for a while, nervous energy coursing in her system. 

She was up before Ringo, leaving her enough time to disentangle herself from the embrace that somehow came to be during the night. It wasn't the most uncomfortable thing to be held by a man but the awkwardness it might bring, she'd rather avoid, especially before a fight. It was light already, weak, probably around six in the morning. She glanced at him, deciding against poking him awake and crawled back to her worn out satchel, digging out the box of pastry. She probably still nudged him though as sleepy eyes stared up at her as she sat back on her side of the bedrolls. A mumbled sorry and a couple reassurances later they ate in tense silence; dusting away crumbs when Sunny came through the door in a hurry. 

"Time to look alive." Six was quicker to be on her feet but had to grab the edge of the counter to stay upright, swaying for a moment with dizziness. She pat down the pockets on her straps before grabbing her gun; she was ready to go. The nervous energy was there again; she preferred avoiding violent confrontations but this wasn't going to play out without bloodshed. She could only hope less of their blood and more of the convicts'. 

People were rushing towards the same fork in the road she was, near the saloon; the end of the only road the Powder Gangers could take to Goodsprings. Inhale, exhale, she reminded herself; the last thing she needed is her hands to tremble and miss shots. She snorted out a chuckle; it was quite absurd she was jumping into fights not even twenty-four hours after recovering from headshots. But this seemed like the least for what the town did for her. 

She tried not focus on how the shots thundered from all directions, afraid memories would be tugged from the depth of her mind. It was a grotesque dance that followed, narrowly dodging a stick of dynamite while showering the convicts with lead. She got a blow to her side, certain it would leave a bruise in the upcoming days, but it was a fleeting distraction amidst the dust and smoke. Her eyes stung and there was a generous amount of blood and other splatter of flesh and what have you covering her from boot to chest; none of her own this time. 

The quiet was just as deafening once the dust settled as the shooting and explosions. She leaned against the rickety fence, running gentle fingers down her side; it didn't hurt that bad, she can probably manage without a stim. None of the townsfolk looked better than her, some bleeding from numerous wounds, some with minor burns; nothing too serious nor pleasing. Her eyes travelled down the road, a heap of still warm corpses littering the road and a trail of blood running down towards the interstate; a survivor or two that could later become trouble. 

"I owe you a huge favor for this." There was a small smile on Ringo's lips as he leaned against the fence next to her, unbothered by the shallow gash across his cheek as he proceeded to stuff caravan funds into her hand. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow before shaking her head — letting dust sprinkle from her hair — and handing back the caps; it wasn't exactly his to spend, just as he said, and she wasn't in it for a reward. 

"How about lunch is on you instead?" She didn't mean anything by it even if her voice had the provocative edge that those familiar with her knew well. They shook hands on it, going on their own ways to clean up before they would share a meal in the Prospector.


	2. The Courier, the Sheriff and the Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Travelin' Man by Ricky Nelson

She set out from Goodsprings in the early afternoon hours with Ringo on her side after convincing him it was safer for both of them to travel together for a while. Six felt clean and fresh, her hair still damp even by the time they reached the abandoned skydiving shack. It was good to be back on the road even if the platinum chip was still far from her grasp; but the feeling of passivity as time flew by her was gone. 

They've made good time on the road, passing it with small, insignificant conversations between long stretches of amicable silence. Apart from a scorpion here or a fire ant there, it was a comfortable trek — they could even pass by a small powder ganger camp unnoticed. Once or twice she grabbed Ringo's shoulder to steady her steps; stopping and reminding herself to drink more often. Maybe she was pushing too hard but she wanted to reach Primm before nightfall — sunlight was cut shorter with each passing day. 

"Shit." It wasn't until the third hour passed that she needed a longer break, sliding down to the dust with her back against a boulder by the broken road. Ringo was soon sitting beside her, casting wary glances at the road and concerned ones at her. Six offered a smile, probably not at all convincing, before rummaging though her pack. There had to be one or two doses of Med-X still though she was hesitant about using them. It could be more useful later, if the pain got really devastating. "Sorry for the delay." 

"It's fine. Without your help, I'd probably be dead." She glanced up at him when the weight of a hand rested on her thigh — it was neither the time or place to get cozy. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling but the incessant throbbing of her temple was bad enough to suppress any desires the touch might've evoked in her otherwise. Ringo wasn't unattractive by any means, especially compared to most other wastelanders — if they'd met on the Strip or in Freeside, things could've been different. But as things were, they were stuck by the road while she waited for the aches to subdue enough — a few more minutes, a Sunset and she's probably ready to go. 

A little over an hour later they made it to the town, the sun starting its dip behind the mountains to the west. She hummed thoughtfully at the warning the trooper issued about convicts that overran the town — though it wasn't much of a deterrent, she was still decent in a gunfight. Crossing the overpass and creeping towards the square in the middle was almost too easy with the long shadows. There was only two or three of the convicts outside, dropping to the ground after only a few shots from either party — though they didn't spend enough time outside the casino to find out how many more might linger in the shadows. 

Six ran into Nash almost immediately, remembering his wrinkled face more than anything — the days prior to the attack on her haven't left much of an impression. He was nice enough to entertain her questions while Ringo headed off deeper into the building, though redirecting most of the questions to the deputy — some whiny kid with a shiny badge by the sounds of it. Going on a rescue mission wasn't the end she wanted for her day but she was as good staying here for the rest of her life otherwise. With deep exhale and a somewhat angry off-hand comment, she promised to see what she can do — but first she wanted a room for the night. 

Night has fallen by the time she crawled across the square to the old hotel's entrance — she was still cautious, her luck probably ran out with her miraculous survival. The dark was just as much to her advantage as a hindrance but she didn't dare to use the Pip-Boy's flashlight. The trusty shotgun that was her usual choice of weapon was left behind, her fingers gripping the stock of a pistol. She suppressed a curse when the door creaked as she slinked inside, taking to the shadows and the improvised barricade quickly. Her heartbeat was frantic and not even deep breathes seemed to help. 

There was no more than a dozen of escaped convicts — maybe luck was still on her side even if she'd rather avoid bloody confrontations. Though that thought left her mind when she found the deputy — not even stumbling across a stashed away gun could keep the frown from her face. She now understood what Nash meant by doing the opposite of her proposed plan — there was hardly a more obnoxious brat in the Mojave. It was with reluctance that she undid his bindings, praying to whatever god that watched over the wasteland that it was worth her time. From there on, it was a simple escort mission — she's taken one or two out of necessity before. 

"Look kid, I don't have time to help Primm." Unless there was someone in town that could be the next sheriff to keep the law and the townsfolk out of similar _'perdicaments'_ , Six neither had time nor an incentive to trek across the Mojave for that — she had her own people to track down. She could try to convince the NCR to take the town under their protection — though she's heard about the financial pressure their rule inflicts on poorer communities and Primm wasn't exactly flourishing to handle that. In the end, she promised to keep her eyes out just to get rid of him — and to get the holotape from him about his observations. She wasn't holding out for much, based on his previous performance in the Bison Steve. 

_"I wouldn't mind a suit like that."_ Beagle's voice drifted from the Pip-Boy as her mind tried to dig up the memory — or maybe she was wrong and the only time she saw it was when he shot her. She didn't push much, her head throbbing again under the strain, though far from the intensity of the ache that forced her to stop earlier the day. Instead, she focused on the recording again, rewinding it a bit to catch the destination. It seemed she wasn't about to avoid going in a roundabout way — though, given their headstart, they might be long gone by the time she reached Novac. But that was a worry for another day — the knock on her door dragging her out of the bleary thoughts. 

"Come in." A soft sigh left her lips when it was only Ringo standing in the doorway — part of her expecting Beagle to come and pester her more. Her lips curled into a smile, mirroring his expression. Ringo was pleasant company to travel with, maybe she needed just him to take her mind off the hazy memories she still chased in the back of her mind. 

"How are you holding up?" His hand came to rest on her thigh again as he sat by her side though it didn't bother her half as much now. He had a boyish charm with that smile and his voice was laced with genuine concern. She gave him a short answer; fine despite everything — nagging brats included. That made him chuckle but as the sounds of laughter quieted down, his expression turned a little serious. "Why don't you try the robot downstairs. I've seen it work someplace else." 

Perhaps she jumped up a bit more enthusiastically than what would've been wise, steadying herself with a hand gripping his shoulder and a sharp intake of breath. She wasn't a technological genius but if there was any pre-installed protocol, she could probably rig the old piece of junk. The few people still milling about gave her a few curious looks as she busied herself around the robot — an old RobCo product, just like most of the technology preserved in the wasteland. However there were no working terminals around or anything she could hook it up with for a reprogramming — _oh, right, the Pip-Boy was made by RobCo, too!_ After that realization, it didn't took long to configure the changes — though there seemed to be minor hiccups in the centuries old personality model. 

"You're a genius!" She was beaming ear to ear, waltzing into the room that, based on how Ringo waited there the whole time, was to be shared by them. The bed was big enough so it wouldn't be a problem — though Ringo getting a little handsy since their very first meeting was a bit worrisome. Yet, she still plopped down on the bed next to him, her shoulder bumping his and allowing for an arm to circle around her back. It's been quite a while, Six realized, that she's been with someone though there were nights with the occasional company — a good five or six years since her only serious relationship. This didn't seem like a good time to start again; they had different paths to walk even if they were stuck together for now. "But that doesn't mean you should get ideas." 

* * *

Six turned back from the door with a soft smile, giving a last glance across the room — the only thing she was leaving behind was the still sleeping Ringo and a note of explanation. It was already late now when she set out southward, waiting for him to get ready would mean she'd have to spend the night by the road — she barely had the time to reach Novac by nightfall as it was. The previous night, she learnt all she could from Nash and didn't stop by their residence nor did she engage in conversation with Beagle — she informed him that the robot was the new sheriff and left him be when he started to whine about her decision. She was taking better to the trekking this day though still far from the ease or speed that made her such an exceptional courier in the first place. It wasn't like she'd be trusted with any job if she won't be able to recover the platinum chip so worries about future deliveries could wait.

She was doing good time on the road even with little stops every hour or so — she knew the Mojave well enough to know where to cut corners or take shortcuts. It could've been quicker, reaching Novac but she didn't feel risking Primm Pass; that canyon and Scorpion Gulch — _oh, wonder why?_ — was a place she avoided even on her good days. At most she'd lose a day by the time reaching the Strip and could travel in relative safety. Gangs poached along roads but they were most times engaged by the local wildlife and allowed for her to slip around their camps unnoticed. 

It's been a little over four hours according to the Pip-Boy when she started her climb towards the town of Nipton, a worse den of sin than Vegas itself. The greeting sign wasn't yet in her sight when she could smell the carnage — a thin column of smoke still stretching towards the sky. Six was hesitant to go on, unsure of what happened — it could've been a drunken incident or a deliberate attack. Probably a mix of both as they were too far from Fiend territory to be a chem raid and too far west to be the Legion. She pressed on after coming to that conclusion, scanning the road ahead for any sign of life. 

The flags greeting her by the edge of the town told a different story — the red and golden fabric twisting her insides with just as much disgust as the metallic and bitter smells in the air did. She barely mumbled a _'fuck, Legion'_ when someone, a survivor perhaps, bound her way. It was too late for her to turn around or hide — narrowing her eyes when she realized from where was his outfit familiar from; a powder ganger that came quite a way. She wasn't sure if the news of the showdown in Goodsprings spread this far already but someone who was once incarcerated wasn't exactly promising a friendly encounter — not even when the other option had to be the Legion. 

"Yeah! Who won the lottery? I did!" She ignored the rest of the slightly crazed blabber, glancing around to spot any legionaries that might linger. The carnage seemed fresh, the town had to be raided in the early morning hours when everyone was either drunk, hungover or too tired to realize what was happening. She wasn't particularly fond of the place, the best casinos were back in New Reno in her opinion anyway, but she didn't wish the Legion's wrath on anyone — though there might've been a time she thought otherwise. The guy, whatever his name was, finally ran off the way she came, leaving her alone in what was a ghost town now. 

For a minute, she waited, listening to the sizzling and dying embers. It mixed with faint sounds of suffering coming from somewhere on her right, the symphony something not even her nightmares could conjure up. Based on what she heard before — from who and when exactly for the first time —, Six wasn't quite surprised by the crucified townsfolk lining the street to what was the town hall. She might as well check that place out for survivors, as good as any of the private homes or the grocery store that once operated in the town. However she couldn't have been farther along then halfway when a dozen or so legionaries spilled out from the doors, mongrels by the heel of some. She reached for her shotgun though odds were stacked against her and she moved on, meeting their leader by the stairs — the snarling of the dogs alerted them to her presence and fleeing would've been the worse choice. 

Slow suffocation didn't sound as an appealing manner of death and she was just the slightest bit relieved that the one introducing himself as Vulpes didn't have such plans for her. Though it didn't exactly fill her with all kinds of hopes — the Legion was infamously barbaric and misogynistic. The current situation a prime example. _"I want you to witness the fate of Nipton, memorize every detail,"_ he said then like she could do otherwise — this wasn't a sight she would easily forget. 

"When you move on, head west to the Mojave Outpost and tell the Profligate troops what you found here." His voice, calm and almost monotone, held all the threats of 'or else'. She didn't have time to protest, that it wasn't the way she was heading but there were only corpses that could've heard her words. But, on second thought, it maybe wasn't such a bad idea to use the rest of daylight to head to the Outpost — trekking alongside the legionaries would've made her easy prey. And after all, she was a courier, her job to deliver packages and messages — if the payment was keeping her life, she'd gladly take it but she wouldn't forget the face of the monster commissioning her. Novac was already hard to reach in time before but now with this stop she couldn't have reached it in time — and as such, Six begrudgingly turned tails, trying to catch the sinking sun at the western border.


	3. The Courier, the Ranger and the Sniper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Still Miss Someone by Johnny Cash

After the unpleasant run-in with the Legion, Six spent the following hours by retracing her steps and trekking to the Mojave Outpost. It was advised to her, just short of being a threat or a command. And while common sense dictated that the farther the Legion, the better, she hated feeling weak or even subservient just to survive — this wasn't what her father taught her. It's been an impossibly long time since she thought about anyone or anything she left behind, a decade had even passed — and she realized on her lonely walk that she couldn't recall her parents' faces anymore. Not as if that would help in her current endeavors — it was exactly why she left, to not just be someone's daughter forever but her own person. 

It's been working out great so far, she snickered and kicked a rock uphill — clanking against a gutted car that was left rusting on the road. She was close now, the unification statue towering over her even from a distance. She ran into an NCR trooper by the feet of the statue but she headed on, already flagged down by a ranger atop the canteen. Six only knew the layout so well because she's crossed over here many a time before, the long 15 the only way west for years now — if not ever. 

"You a courier? If so, this might be your lucky day..." She could do with one of those, Six mused to herself but only voiced her readiness to help out — the people here were decent folks and most her memories were of good times from her overnight stops. In the end, she didn't even have to do anything, coming up from Nipton. She told the ranger of the dozen or so legionaries that razed the town and that the only survivor was a crazed powder ganger who would be dead by the roadside soon enough anyways. "Legion this far West? You're fucking kidding me." 

If only she were but the acrid smell of burned flesh was still vivid even hours later. After muttering to herself, the ranger bid her farewell and she could head down the ramp, seeking boarding for the night. A few words with the bartender and an order of whiskey later, Six was left without a room — no wonder with caravans stacking up here with critter infested roads and the break out of the NCR prisoners. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face, most caravaneers were unknown to her and, no matter the flirting and suggestive comments, she wouldn't be able to room with one of the troopers. But maybe she didn't even need to. 

It's been a while since they met for the last time and they haven't parted in the most amicable way — they didn't exactly part at all though, just slipping away while the other still slept. It was casual for them, by agreement no strings attached — just fooling around a hot summer night or two. But she didn't seem to be in a good mood if the empty whiskey glasses were any indication. Six settled on the stool next to hers, passing on her untouched glass and ordering another for herself. 

"Leave me- Oh, it's you." That stung a little but wasn't unexpected — at least she remembered her. She was probably expecting someone making a pass at her from the interrupted hostility; though with how both of their previous meetings played out, it wasn't much of a surprise — though if it came to that, she wouldn't want to guess which of them had more partners. "Not exactly in the mood to talk." 

"Figured as much, Cass." Six rested a hand on her shoulder, giving it a few pats before turning to her own round of whiskey — she wasn't really talkative either. The fate of Nipton was still lingering, images swimming in the back of her mind to want much company — if anything, Cass' own gloom was giving her all the reasons to keep to herself. "Just glad for a friendly face." 

Even though neither of them wanted to talk, they still sat by the bar; talking and sipping on another glass of whiskey as time went by. Cass, like many, has been stuck at the Outpost and on top of that, she hasn't heard from her caravaneers to the east in a while — Six didn't bring up that it could be the Legion's work, as far she knew Cass, she'd try and shoot up the whole Fort alone. In the end, through some banter and paying another glass for her, Six got a place with her — they would be a little tight but it was still better than nothing. 

* * *

It seemed her new normal was to slip away while the one she shared a bed with still slept — not like it wasn't her normal once when she was younger. She left a note for Cass, too, promising her a round of whiskey should they meet again. The Outpost was still asleep, only a few troopers and the ranger from the day before walking around the place when she left. The thought of crossing through Nipton again wasn't inviting but going on one more roundabout way was even less appealing — Novac was far, her whole day would be spent on reaching it the shortest way possible.

The road and the town was eerie and quiet as she moved through, as quick she could without stepping onto any remains. Her eyes kept scanning the eastern horizon even if it was unlikely the Legion lingered among the canyon walls that stretched along the road. Better safe than sorry, that really should be her motto after the past week. Around the curve of the road she expected raiders — at least that's what she figured from the proximity mine she dodged. But it seemed the Legion left their mark along their way and only hacked up corpses greeted her. She had to chase off a vicious dog that was attracted by the smell of, arguably, fresh meat and what mistook her for a threat to its meal — she didn't even want to imagine that scenario. 

The sun's been on a descent for hours by the time she passed the ranger station, the signature shape of the dino towering against the far horizon. It wasn't much from there on, heading up a slight incline past the canyon walls. She passed the old gas station, waving a hesitant 'hello' to Victor who rolled by the neon sign and scaled the steps up to the gift shop — the Outpost was low on stock and she didn't have the constitution to loot around Nipton. It was easy to slip into a casual conversation as she browsed the limited offer, settling on some gecko kebab and mutfruits in the end. 

"By the way," she paused with a small smile, "I'm looking for a man in a checkered coat. Have you seen anyone like that?" It was most of the same story she heard in Primm already, that he passed through town a couple days back with a bunch of Khans — though they seemed to get progressively pissed by him. She's been redirected to Manny, a friend of theirs perhaps. 

The mouth of the dinosaur was quite a tight spot — sure fine for a sniper's nest but a little uncomfortable for some friendly chat. She offered a smile, raising her hands even if he wasn't quite eyeing her as a threat. From the beret, she could tell he was NCR, had a few run-ins with First Recon in her younger days. Though he had to be off duty, Novac — as far she knew — wasn't under the republic's jurisdiction yet. 

"Hey, you're Manny, right?" 

"Yeah. I'm on security detail here." They went on a tangent, talking about the town and how it was home to him and the other sniper he had some issues with at the moment. Either way, she'll keep him in mind and ask about the guy if Manny had nothing to offer. She's been also offered a job though extermination wasn't her expertise even if she'd have time to spare — as much she'd wanted to help, she's been already losing more time than she could afford. "If you can, don't bring up his wife." 

"Why's that?" Listening to stories, that wasn't much — and it wasn't like she'd leave sooner than dawn. It sounded rough on both of them — instead of having each other's backs as they used to, they sounded to be just an incident shy of getting at each other's throats. Six laid a hand on his shoulder, warming up to him; though that might've been only the close quarters of the balcony. She knew that flirting went a long way and even though she was hesitant before to go through with her suggestions, part of her echoed Manny's words — _there's something I like about you._

Her lips moved against his, unhurried and uncertain — her eyes fluttering closed even if she wasn't trusting him completely. If there'd been any meaning to the kiss, it would've been damn perfect; pinned against the wall as the last rays of the sun painted the wasteland orange around them. But as it was, it was just a kiss — something she paid the information with. "Come find me if you can't get a room." 

Six promised to do so before slipping away, making her way back out the gates and to the motel's lobby — the door still open thought the room was empty. She's rounded the counter, her fingers running along the boxes that held the keys; she could've just picked one without anyone noticing. But her gaze was caught by the safe in the ground, held open by a piece of junk — Jeannie, or whoever Manny said ran things here, probably coming back in a second. Those shots back in Goodsprings had to fuck her up, normally she'd know not to snoop around. She left the caps alone, she had enough of her own but her eyes ran through the words — a bit of a hard read but still clear enough about its contents. 

It was obviously related to what Manny said about the disappearance — and it also seemed that he was innocent just as he claimed it, though she had little trouble believing that in the first place. Right, she'll leave the document where she found it and inquire about her _friend_ ; maybe find out if he wanted the information she wasn't supposed to find out about. By the time she left the lobby, their shifts changed as light was seeping out from the room Manny indicated as his own. 

She scaled the steps again, soon finding herself on the cramped balcony. The atmosphere was filled less with the awkwardness of strangers and more with tense yet passive hostility. According to what she's heard, he's been through a lot — though that shouldn't be a reason to bark at her like he did. _What an asshole._ Sure, she's been making little noise but she preferred to be careful with her approaches since Goodsprings — though maybe that would be the next thing getting a bullet through her skull. 

"Just making friendly conversation." Six was tempted to add _'trying'_ to her sentence but it seemed to be her snark was rubbing him the wrong way already. It also took effort not to spat back that so much was obvious when he flat out refused to acknowledge her as a friend — not like that was her goal. Another round or two of pointless interrogation later, it seemed they started to get somewhere. 

"I want you to find something out for me." She had a hunch what it was — confirmed as he went on, practically seething the words out. She reassured him to look into it, hiding the fact she was one step ahead; it seemed likely he'd go into a fit of rage and strangle the one responsible with his bare hands. His plan wasn't all that much different and she set out with a promise and his beret folded into a pocket on one of her leather straps. "We shouldn't speak again. Not until it's over." 

That wasn't a request that would prove to be hard to follow — it didn't seem like he was that talkative anyway. And, with all the evidence only a breath away from her grasp, it would be over soon, too. She slipped back to the lobby, this time needing a bobby pin to unlock the safe — the document still where she left it. Pocketing it, she set out to find the person in question. 

It seemed too easy, finding the older woman too gullible — then growing suspicious that it was all an act. But it wasn't and she believed til the end that there would be something important waiting by the dino — a bullet with her name perhaps. Six shuddered even if the shot was suppressed, her breath hitching for a few seconds; reminding herself that she wasn't the target this time around. The barrel of the rifle disappeared past the dino's mouth and it was time for her to meet up with him again, claim whatever reward might wait her. 

"That's it then. How did you know?" She tried to make a brave face even though she's been still a little shaken, slowly realizing that she's just partaken in a cold blooded murder. Disregarding her own feelings, at least for the moment, as it was a lost case, she handed over the piece of paper — a little more crumbled since she pocketed it. There's been a frown on his face but he didn't seem that surprised — he didn't really shown any emotion, to be honest. He's taken his beret back, a shame, she kinda liked it even though that would put quite a target on her back. 

"What will you do after this?" He wasn't the type she usually dallied with but after the Goodsprings fiasco, she wasn't too inclined to travel alone if she could help it — and what better than a sniper watching her back? Going after the Legion sounded quite suicidal yet she was certain Nipton wouldn't be her last run-in with them — maybe there was a compromise to be made. It didn't took her long to convince him, promising that they won't hold back if they came across a raiding party but their primary objective won't be storming the Fort, guns blazing. 

They parted for the night, agreeing to move out at dawn — him staying at his post and her finally taking Manny up on that offer of bed. He's been asleep by the time she snuck in, trying her best to make little noise. The only light was a terminal's soft glow, an intramail flickering on the cracked screen. She's been in it deep now and she was less hesitant to go through someone else's belongings — if he didn't want her to see it, he'd have turned it off. 

_Benny._ The name's been stirring some memories, maybe from a while before, maybe she only heard one of the Khans use the name when she was caught. The tone of the message felt like the whole setup was a bit forced from their end and Manny's compliance was serving the town's best — but still making her question if she should stay the night. She's been tired and it's been getting close to midnight; it would do — at least she didn't have to literally share a bed this time.


	4. The Courier, the Cultist and the Scribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Around the Bend by Creedence Clearwater Revival

The next day came early — or maybe it only felt so because Six stayed up late, trying to decide if losing another day could be worth in the long run. She's been implicated in murder and if the people found out, she'd be dead the moment she steps foot into the town the next time. Maybe she should check it out and see what she can do about the ghoul problem Manny talked about the previous day — that should rebalance the scales some. On the other hand, both she and Boone wanted to be elsewhere than the REPCONN facility — and she left the final decision for after talking with him. 

_"Fine by me,"_ came his answer a good ten minutes ago and now they were trekking uphill, west. Stocked up on enough radiation meds and ammo, she hoped it would only be a quick job and she could still make it to Boulder City the same day. The silence between them wasn't any different from travelling on her own — she understood that sometimes there was just nothing to say and what even could they talk about after the circumstances that brought them together. If anything, it just made it easier to spot the ferals sooner than they noticed them — though she had to get closer with the short range of her shotgun. Maybe one day, if they live long enough, she could ask him to teach her — she's been quite terrible with precision aiming whenever she tried. 

Getting to the entrance went easy, coming across a dozen ghouls tops but it became clear there would be more than ferals inside. The door was partially blocked by a nightkin — though it could've been on its own. They hardly stepped through the threshold when an old intercom crackled to life, giving them instructions to cross the building and find them there for further tasks. She wasn't exactly thrilled, hearing the shambling of ferals from deeper within the facility and Boone only shrugged — they might as well check it out and be done with it. 

"Hey, you're not a ghoul!" Based on the voice she heard, Six would swear it was a ghoul; he had that throaty-raspy voice that was their own — but Chris was a human, just like her or Boone. But it seemed she got nowhere with it and with some grumbles, headed up the stairs to speak with Jason. There's been a few scribes — or assistants maybe — and a glowing one in a tattered suit; aptly named but she kept the observation to herself. 

"Have you come to help us complete the Great Journey?" She's brushed off his previous apologies, still somewhat taken aback by the fact that he was a non-feral glowing one. As much her curiosity was piqued, she knew it would be in bad taste to ask personal questions. She relayed Manny's request though not naming him — in exchange getting treated to the story of how their preparations for the Great Journey were interrupted by _'demons'_ — nightkin, more likely. His descriptions of never actually appearing and the shimmering of light coupled with the fact they've come across at least two slain made it a highly plausible conclusion. She wasn't exactly thrilled by the prospect of fighting nightkins in a dark basement but her damn charitable soul — and Boone's offer of spotting for her — made her accept the plea for help. 

"Let's stick to stealth." She warned him before slipping into some sort of control room. The Pip-boy was darkened on her arm, alerts muted and, just for the sake of it, wrapped into a piece of dark cloth. Creeping forward along a corridor, the first person they met was a trapped ghoul — kind enough to let her check out the terminal once she waved through the multitude of traps without setting them off. It contained no useful data, only some backlogs and shipping informations. They left with a promise of looking for his friend, though — this part she omitted — she wasn't sure the result would be anything but tragic. 

Boone was quicker to unload the gun from his shoulder when they stepped foot into an office of sorts — but he refrained from firing when she held up her hand. Some years back she learnt that nightkin weren't necessarily hostile unless provoked. Davison — and Antler — was willing to hear her out, agreeing to her terms of retreat if she could tell them about the box of stealth boys. The shipment he was after was probably the same she just read about, the one that was mistakenly sent back — he wasn't happy to hear about but he honored the deal. 

"I've never seen someone deal with his kind like that." She only flashed a smile at Boone at the oddly complimenting comment — there's been a lot he still didn't know of her and a lot she didn't want him to know. Looking through the room for anything that might help, she only came across a bunch if keys on a ring and a few frag grenades. Shrugging, she headed out deeper into the facility with Boone trailing behind her, both of them wordless though there didn't seem to be a nightkin presence — probably Davison already gathered them in preparation to leave. 

"Not what I hoped for." The ghoul had to be dead for a few days at least though the background radiation, though albeit insignificant, kept the body from decomposing — it was probably for the better. Giving a look around the generator room, or what it seemed to be such, she didn't come up with anything worth keeping or weighing her down with. The trip back to Harland went even quicker — it seemed she was bearer of more bad news than good during the day. 

It wasn't until they returned to the labs and she brought back to life the Pip-boy she noticed how late it got — all the basement crawling taking up most of their time. She let the ghouls go ahead after informing Jason and then set up for a late lunch — a sandwich with fried brahmin meat and tatos for both of them. They ate in silence in a tucked away corner — though Boone wasn't much talkative anyway. He was pleasant company all the same and she had the feeling Boone wouldn't mind if she talked without end as long Manny or Carla wasn't involved. 

She kind of hoped it would be all but when the intercom crackled to life — this time with Jason's voice — she knew it would take the rest of the day. They trudged back to the basement, down the hatch in Davison's room and along a few, creepy corridors. It seemed the rockets were almost finished, only missing a few yet vital components — what such, they should inquire about with Chris. However she still had her own questions for Jason, curious how much was it Chris' own delusion and how much responsibility rested on the ghouls for leading him on — though it wasn't like she could influence Chris even if she knew the truth. 

"It's the creator's will and I must submit." That wasn't a defense in her eyes, it didn't make it any better. But there was little she could do to undo the harm of _'innocent'_ or _'necessary'_ lies. Chris would soon be confronted by the information that he would be left behind, regardless of his encouraged belief of being one of their kind — maybe she could convince him to settle in Novac, the place could maybe use his expertise for something. Arguing it further with Jason would've been just as pointless and a waste of precious time — it was already a longer job than just shooting up the ferals that stuck around the place and wandered into town on occasion. 

She still sent him a wary glance before striking up conversation with Chris. _Radioactive fluid, yeah sure, because that just grows on trees._ Though the toy rocket in Novac's gift shop did have a glowy goo if her memory served right and there was also the old lady with the dogs running a junkyard — maybe she'd have what they needed. Making a note of the necessary items on the Pip-Boy, Six set out on a return journey to Novac — neither her, nor Boone happy about waltzing back into town. It was a tense hour or so of walking but the road was void of ferals at least. 

It was nightfall by the time they got back, meaning that even if the junkyard was close they could only make the trip back the next day. They tried to enter the town as inconspicuous as it was possible — only running into one of the residents of the motel and No-bark who was mumbling to himself, off somewhere in a fantasy. The room wasn't any different than the one she slept in the previous night though calling that catnap sleep was pushing it. For a change she was glad to get into bed early — Boone wouldn't be keeping her up with chatter or improper offers. He was more of a shadow, trailing behind her with even less noise she made — and she fell asleep with the thought that it was fortunate he wasn't her enemy. 

The next morning greeted them bright and they were done with the barter and purchase of toy rockets before the town really set about the day. She left a message for Manny at the gift shop, letting him know that the ghouls wouldn't be a problem any longer — catching a frown on Boone's lips when he realized they've been running an errand for Manny. She let it slip even though she could've pointed out how he agreed the day before — walking the comfortable distance to the junkyard in silence once again. It seemed insane how she had such luck — it wasn't the first time since she was patched up by Doc Mitchell that the dice was rolled in her favor. 

The trek back to the REPCONN building was another hour and thankfully no one was taking issues with the time it took her to get back with the necessary items. Boone's silence allowed her to go through her thoughts and come to a decision about the lies of the ghouls — now easing into a conversation with Chris about his future. Just as she assumed, he was now aware of the fact he was to be left behind — his anger understandable though perhaps a little harsh. It took her a few attempts to persuade him that sabotage wasn't the way to go about it, that and a few smiles and flirting — she even seemed to catch Boone rolling his eyes at her penchant for peaceful solutions. 

It didn't took long after that for the rockets to be prepared and launched — and the three of them made their way back to Novac. Chris was still mumbling about how the ghouls lied and how he should've seen through it — conversation only forming between them when she and Boone took the I-95 northwards, saying brief farewells before leaving the town behind. The trip to Boulder City would take the rest of their day, even more so if she'd start experiencing headaches again — these past days weren't as taxing as the long treks she's undertaken since Goodsprings and she was doing considerably better. 

Wildlife, as it did in every corner of the wasteland, took its chance against them — though even quick, little geckos couldn't make it close enough to deal damage with Boone's impeccable aim. It's been reassuring, feeling the safest on the road in a long time. She wasn't a bad shot to say but favoring a shotgun over any other weapon was putting her at a disadvantage. The shots got her shuddering once or twice still when she realized it too late that Boone spotted a critter way ahead of her and the shot took her by surprise — glad that it was all the reaction instead of a complete meltdown. 

"You all right there?" She's been caught off guard by Boone's question after the third time she was scared by a shot. Glancing back at him, she only shrugged — _now just what could she tell him without sounding pathetic?_ Surviving headshots sounded impressive as long one ignored the side-effects; cowering in fear and headaches were less than appealing. 

"Yeah, I'm just..." _She what? Was afraid Boone would shoot her next time?_ But that was stupid, he had no reason as far she knew. "I made some bad memories recently." Memories she couldn't really recall but in the back of her mind she was aware of the fear and begging for her life without a shred of dignity. Maybe it was better that way, Six thought about it already — she didn't need nightmares, too. She glanced at Boone again, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. "Sorry for not telling you Manny gave that job." 

"Yeah, just forget it. Least the town's safe." It seemed this was all the conversation for the day. They continued on in their usual silence, oddly more comforted by it than talking. 

Boulder City was void of life, only a few NCR troopers lingering outside the saloon; whispering comments about Boone, wishing they had a First Recon guy looking out for them. She's been redirected to the lieutenant when asking about the Khans — it seemed complications followed her in equal measures to her luck. The lockdown was just as much to her advantage as a trouble for the NCR; there was a high probability the Khans she's been pursuing were stuck in the ruins — hoping for Benny seemed like too much optimism. She left Boone outside, venturing deeper onto the ruins alone — even if he was no longer active military, that red beret could spook the Khans and she wasn't ready to forfeit any information about the platinum chip and Benny, nor her or Boone's life. 

"I got better." Six was tempted to put more snark into her comment but Jessup, or what's-his-name, was pissed off enough as it was. They had to be holed up here for a couple days even without the lockdown and the military presence had to further aggravate them — each of them antsy and fidgety from the moment she stepped foot into the old store. The two privates — she wondered for a moment if saving hostages would become a daily occurrence for her — looked uninjured on first glance; the only hope for a peaceful settlement. It wasn't hard to negotiate their release for their own free leave, though the clause of the NCR overseeing the process was harder to get through. 

"Yeah...about that..." There was a hesitance to answer her questions about the chip, and spite — which she later learned was for Benny who made more enemies on this trip than friends it seemed. Jessup had no reliable information of neither things — she knew already as much that if nowhere else, she can find him on the Strip. Though she now had an exact location which didn't fill her with much hope, a confrontation on his home turf now seemed unavoidable. "Here — a souvenir for you. It's Benny's lighter. Shove it up his ass when you catch up with him." 

Those were odd parting words but with the animosity left behind, it was understandable. She gave a few glances to the lighter, the engraved figure stirring some long-buried memories; nothing she should concern herself with. Convincing the Khans easily however wasn't the end of it, the lieutenant needing a little nudge to honoring his promise — even if it went against his orders. Six didn't wait around to see how the rest of the situation would unravel — even if it was little progress, she wanted to reach the trading post at the highway intersection at least before complete darkness. 

The trading post was still open for business when she arrived with Boone in tow — a few people even lingering outside in the last of the sunlight. She's bought them meals, just how it became custom — as good as direct payment. Her eyes glanced at the approaching woman of her own age, nodding in agreement when she asked about joining them — tales of travels often attracted folks in lack of better entertainment. Though Six doubted she had a good story to tell — her repertoire was a story of getting shot, a razed town or being involved in murder; none too appealing or happy in the gloom of the wasteland. 

"No offense," she started and it was hard to take any with her words — it's been the evening of the fifth day and she came quite the way. "Where'd you come from?" 

"The grave." Six had the feeling the other would appreciate the humor even if it earned her a disapproving grunt from Boone — otherwise so quiet that it was easy to forget he was still there. There was something almost naive about her, Veronica as she introduced herself, that made her the complete opposite of Boone. She was pleasant company and Six entertained her wide range of questions, taking a liking to her with each second. The mention of the Brotherhood earned a raise of her eyebrows — she's heard stories, from multiple sources but she's never taken the threat too seriously; she was a courier with a shotgun only. "I know who they are but I don't care about their agenda." 

There were others to worry about than a handful of hoarders that became only a myth in the past years. The NCR, which she used to call home once, made sure they were the only big player wherever their interests reached — even if it included near complete wipeout of pre-war societies. She prayed the discussion would come to an end, not quite feeling up to speaking about politics and power play — she felt lacking in that aspect; ignorant even. 

"So where are you headed, anyway?" Boone's comment about securing shelter for the night already broke off the previous conversation and she was grateful Veronica followed suit. Six didn't hesitate to give a straight answer — her business there still unannounced. She hummed a chuckle at her tease — rich depended on the outcome of her little reunion with Benny. She might as well die permanently this time around — didn't sound exactly like hitting it big. "Maybe we could travel together, help each other out." 

The suggestion surprised her. Veronica sounded genuine. _Two's company,_ her father used to say, no matter how unlikely a pair you are, _but three's a crowd._ And she was hesitant to trust after what she's been through — with Boone, it was different; he placed blind trust in her first. Though Veronica seemed like someone who could be company rather that protection — she wasn't sure babysitting for the sake of breaking the monotony would be worth it. She gave voice to her doubts but she was reassured shortly that she wouldn't regret it — _hell, nothing could be worse than two bullets to the head._

"One thing you should know, first, though." It didn't fill her with hope and Six already felt like her agreement to bring her along was a mistake. The revelation that she was Brotherhood left her indifferent — there was a few good one among them from what she heard but she's never been involved with or interested in them. 

"Look, I said I don't care. As long you're not helping the fucking Legion, you can be from anywhere. But now that we are at spilling our hearts — this trip might not be the joyride you're expecting out of Vegas." It was only fair she clued her in about what sort of revenge quest she was on — there was high chance their trip would come to a short end the moment they step foot onto the Strip; whether by House's courtesy or Benny's she left up for debate. Like how she wasn't bothered by her affiliation, Veronica seemed to be understanding about her confession — if anything she seemed excited to see some action; _well, scavenging could do that to people._

With that settled, they both retired for the night — Vegas was still a long way away.


	5. The Courier, the Researcher and the Prostitute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High Hopes by Frank Sinatra

The road to Vegas was long, taking up half their day or more. She's been fighting headaches more than creatures — doing her best to hide it behind gritted teeth and fake smiles. The shudders of fear when Boone fired however were harder to pass off as something insignificant. Six was sure concerned glances were cast behind her back but neither of them said anything at first. It went nowhere with Boone the previous day — she doubted Veronica could get her to fess up. 

Stopping for a few bites, a midday snack at best, provided the perfect opportunity to release her concerns — asking if she was fine, if they should make more stops or if there was anything they could do to help. Six shook her head no to all questions, wincing and cursing herself — that was definitely the last thing she needed. Her fingers raked through her hair, the mess it was — though she was doing her best to brush it — an effective way to hide the scars and the bald patches. Moments like this, she was glad for its volume and length — bottoming out somewhere at the end of her shoulder blades. Living in the NCR for half of her life spoilt her, one could even say. 

After that stop there weren't any more discussions about that — instead they talked about various topics, keeping her mind off worrying. For a few short replies even Boone joined their conversation. The Pip-Boy read early afternoon when the east gates of Freeside closed behind them with a loud noise — that screeching could wake even the dead. From there, they headed straight to the Atomic Wrangler she was more or less familiar with — cheap but offering enough of quality to justify the spending. 

With Veronica commenting on her adverse reaction to gunshots, it seemed like the right time to tell them what happened back in Goodsprings — not like there was anything else to do. The past caught up with her, if the other courier's words Nash parroted to her could be trusted — some years ago buried memories stirring in the back of her mind. She was still hung up on why Benny was so familiar but a stranger to her. _Maybe she handled a delivery for him? But she could swore she hasn't been on the Strip itself before._ She was roused from her thoughts by Veronica, blinking at her until she repeated whatever she just said. 

"That's both horrible and, oddly cool?" Six chuckled at the sense of wonder in her words; this was just the attitude she needed by her side. Boone interjected hopes about getting her revenge — followed by a meaningful look between them; if anyone, he knew how revenge felt. 

They've sat around for a while, sipping their beers and enjoying — as much it was possible to — the show the ghoul put up. It wasn't that bad, enough to tune out her thoughts to until conversation filtered through all the noise. She whispered to Boone and Veronica that she'd be back in a minute — unless they hear shooting, not to expect the worst. 

"I hear you have some troubles with tabs?" She slipped onto a chair across from Francine, answering her question with one of hers — no, there were no issues with their rooms, though, she assured her. Six got a raise of her eyebrow in return — people visiting the Wrangler usually didn't came to help. She shouldn't really either but they still had to figure a way to the Strip — neither her or Veronica had passports; nor did they have enough money to pay the entrance fee. 

"Great." It was exasperated, not at all thankful that she offered assistance — but then again, maybe the twins should discuss business away from customers' ears. Anyhow, she was still clued in, making quick notes on her Pip-Boy of names and the money owned — making some calculations about how many caps the offered percentage would mean. "James might have some more work for you if you're interested." 

She was, the cut from the debts was still far from the money they needed. Moving a stool or two down the bar, she went straight for the job — it wasn't like she could be picky but pimping wasn't exactly within her scope. Still, she promised to see if there's anyone who would fit the bill and to send them on their way if she did. With that settled and only an hour of daylight or so remaining Six left the expeditions across Freeside for the coming day. 

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" She didn't expect Boone to pull her aside when retiring to their respective rooms — though it didn't seem like he had inappropriate motives she'd expect from plenty o' guests. There's been a hint of concern in his voice though it was hard to pick up on his milder emotions. Nodding for him to go on, Six leaned against the wall — unsure if she liked where this conversation would be going. "Guess I have no place to say but you maybe want to get _that_ looked at." 

He made a vague gesture to her head at that — her fingers sinking into her hair without much of a thought. Even if she didn't want to hear it, he was probably right; Doc Mitchell said he did the best he could but Goodsprings was less equipped than the nearby clinic was. She could probably make a trip there between hunting down the delinquents for Francine and the assets for James but they were stil short on caps. Pulling her hand back, she rested it on his shoulder, watching as he flinched before relaxing under her touch — he had his own issues to work out, it seemed. 

"The clinic isn't in the budget." 

"Yeah, I know. That's why I've been thinking about the Followers." She's heard of them, sounded like a bunch of nice people but she wasn't a resident of Freeside — _would they even treat her? Did they even have the means to?_ Not that having her head spliced open sounded any appealing to begin with but that would be a concern for later — if and when she agrees to anything. 

"I'll consider it." With the gesture unexpected, it was the best answer she could give to him. It wasn't quite an agreement even though Six was certain it all stemmed from goodwill. He muttered about how that was enough before bidding her goodnight — and leaving her to ponder if there was perhaps some guilt to his suggestion. 

* * *

It was early when she parted ways with Boone and Veronica for the day, offering them to use the time as they saw fit. Being in charge, even if not explicitly stated, was a new experience she needed to grow used to — her leadership qualities were close to none. She's been her own person from a rather young age, maybe not so young in the hellscape the world was in her time; on her own for the majority of the time. Maybe she's been better at it if she'd listened to her father's teachings more — but there was too much pressure to take on the role, to lead a community. 

Alarmed as someone held her back by the arms, Six almost spat at the person to get the hell away but, she realized only now when newly aware of her surroundings, she was probably owing him a thanks. It wasn't like she wanted to walk past the greeter, just too preoccupied by old memories. Maybe she'd really need to seek help — her past was plaguing her mind increasingly more since Goodsprings. 

She was more annoyed than surprised by the haggling her _clients_ tried to pull on her — she didn't look much, a vaultie that lost her way to most. Yet she probably travelled more roads than the woman and the ghoul combined — it was there to see through their lies and weak attempts to get out of paying. Six could be content though as she looked for the last, Santiago; warned of his persuasive charm. _Oh, but two could play that game_ — and if he was as good the rumors heldtrue, she might get to fulfill one of James' requests, too. 

The appeal was clear from the moment Santiago opened his mouth; he'd probably talked his way out of many a situation like this. If she's been the same naive girl who set out from Southern Oregon more than a decade ago, he might've had better chances. There was a point, quite soon after the conversation started, when she just told him to drop it, she wasn't intending to kill him — quite the contrary. 

"James Garret is looking for a suave escort." The decision was left up to her and she much rather choose him than the guy she ran into by the Strip gates. And while she wasn't sure that would take care of his debts, she was certain it wouldn't take much to convince Francine — in the long run, it might prove to be a profitable decision even. Santiago, on the other hand, needed little to no persuasion. 

With the tabs paid, Six could make her way back to the Wrangler — yet she took a right hand turn instead of catching up with her own acquaintances. She hesitated before pushing the heavy gate open; it was probably just over-exertion, nothing serious. It took her a few minutes of pacing among the tents — also taking notice of the peculiar attire of a ghoul; Garret having said nothing of genders — before finding someone without a patient. Blond, tall — a real stunner in the wasteland. 

"Hi. If you're looking for medical help, try the other doctors." She barely opened her mouth for a greeting when she was already rebuked by him. To her it seemed more of a case of unwillingness than capability to treat her. Shame that his personality was far less alluring. 

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about it." Pointing that out helped none, Six realized, though it would be a lie to say her interests didn't piqued. It did sound noble in its goal, she had to give him that — and now that she's been given some insight, he didn't seem half as aloof as before. The conversation flowed easily with his sense of humor shining through on occasion — self-deprecating, accompanied by bittersweet amusement. 

Arcade, she finally learned his name, was one of the most sophisticated persons she's ever met — although not much of an achievement given she spent the majority of her life among tribals. That feeling of wasted potential twisted her insides with guilt — _was this how her father felt about her? How he still does if he even thinks of her?_ But she shook the feeling quick enough as the conversation went on, touching on a few different topics — including the age old question if she was coming from a vault. 

She ran into one of the doctors after taking leave of Arcade, quite literally but it was just as much a waste of her time she expected — with supplies low and equipment sparse, she was suggested to visit the clinic instead. _Yeah, like that would happen._ The doctor mentioned something about two addicts who, were they sober, would probably allow the Followers to spare a few Med-X for her. Another vague promise to look into things if given the opportunity — it seemed she was more of a general problem-fixer nowadays than a courier. Not like there was much business in this region to begin with and as long it made caps, it was good as anything. 

Getting through with the ghoul about the job was a more difficult task than convincing Santiago — perhaps she was more direct with him, on second thought. She threw in an offer of discount booze, hoping with all her being that her words would prove true and not just an overconfident guess. Beatrix, as she learned her name was, promised to head over to the Wrangler after settling things with the Followers — she didn't want to just up and leave. 

Checking in with the Garrets, she was relived Francine agreed to clear Santiago's tabs in exchange of cutting his wages — though it also yielded less caps than she initially expected. James, on the other hand, was surprised by the short time Six needed to recruit two of the new _assets_ — tipping her off about an abandoned robotics lab in the vicinity. With Boone and Veronica still away, she might as well check it out. 

* * *

It was late after an eventful evening when Six shuffled through the Wrangler's door; plopping down on an empty chair by Veronica's table with a beer. Her legs still felt twitchy, throat dry and voice hoarse as she muttered a short hello. There was no sign of Fisto yet — he probably took the longer route around Freeside. She stayed up longer than both Veronica or Boone — he's already retired for the night by the time she came back from the robotics lab. 

A cigarette held between fingers drizzled smoke towards the ceiling, her other hand absently toying with her hair. She accomplished quite a few things — even running into one of the addicts and convincing him to go see the Followers. _Was this what his father did before she was born? Roam the wasteland and lend a helping hand where they needed?_ It seemed like even if she tried to run from her past, and future, it would eventually catch up with her — or maybe it already did. 

The next day saw her and Veronica set out in the late morning hours with Boone staying behind — it probably wasn't easy for him to sit around idly while on the doorstep of Vegas where he met Carla. She came to the realization the past night, when wondering if there was even a point to anything she did — the chip was likely out of her grasp even if she made it as far as the Tops. At least she was making a difference in Freeside. 

"Do you want me to punch him? It would be no trouble at all!" Veronica's enthusiasm curled her lips into a smile, though Six rejected the offer — violence, as always, was a last resort. They got a promise out of him that he would stop supplying the locals with cheap, bad quality stuff — not as if she placed much faith in those words. Better than nothing, even more so if the arrangements between the Garrets and the Followers comes to fruition and the severity of addictions sees a decrease. _And...she's been thinking like her father would once again._

She's seen Julie about the news, declining the medical aid this time around — her headaches were gone and, spending more time around the town, she saw more use to it in the Followers' care. After much more amicable farewells, Six lingered around the fort as Veronica seemed to be lost in conversation with another of the doctors — both of them quite animated and it felt wrong to interrupt them. 

"Hello, again. Still in one piece, I see." There was an off-hand comment on the tip of her tongue, in a similarly sarcastic tone — but that wasn't exactly the way to make new friends. And it would've been quite a bit of boasting, too — sure her achievements shouldn't be ignored but this wasn't even really hers to begin with. 

"Freeside isn't as bad since House took over Vegas." Things calmed down around the region considerably since the first time she came to the Mojave — both the settling of tribals and the NCR presence greatly contributing to the result. Arcade, however, didn't seem to share her views, offering the correction that the local gang known as _The Kings_ did more for the place — and, not to pat themselves on the back but, the Followers' aid was quite significant. Also, he added, they might be able to assist with getting onto the Strip. 

They talked quite a bit more before Veronica came looking for her and she even went as far to suggest joining up with her gang when time comes to set out from Vegas. He politely declined and Six couldn't really blame him — Freeside was far from luxury but it was still one of the better places the Mojave could offer. They said their goodbyes though she had the feeling this wasn't the last time they met — if in no way else, after her encounter with Benny went awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving to biweekly releases as of today.  
> Let me know what you thought about the chapter or any theories you might have.  
> Accompanying material out on Wednesday.


End file.
